It's Dark Inside
by malecmalecmalec
Summary: Oh I wasn't, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the... book." "You were talking to the book?" "Sure." A tenth Doctor and OC fanfiction. Warning: Swearing
1. Pickup Lines

"Why do I put myself through so much emotional pain?" I wail as I throw my head down on the counter in despair.

No Amy. Pull your shit together. It's just a book. It's not like it ripped your heart out, tore it apart, stapled it back together and shoved it into the empty cavity the is your chest. You're just overreacting. I glance down at my well-thumbed copy of Clockwork Princess.

"I hate you."

Right then a new customer walks into the empty shop.

"Well that's not very nice, is it?"

I glance up and see a tall and very handsome man wearing a long brown coat and dirty white Converse.

"Oh I wasn't, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the... book." I stammer.

"You were talking to the book?"

"Sure, that sounds believable" I stutter.

He is very, VERY, handsome. Is it hot in here? I'm feeling kind of hot.

"Alrightttttt..."

I realise that I have been blatantly staring at him for a few moments. Snap out of it.

"What, what can I help you with, sir?" Come on Amy, play it cool. I try to casually lean my elbow on the counter. Of course I slip.

"I'm looking for a book," he says with a glorious English accent.

"Well you are in a bookshop," I sigh. "This is the place where people usually come to buy books."

He glares at me. Don't look directly into the eyes. The eyes are a dark brown abyss that you will never get out of.

"And what sort of book would you be looking to acquire sir?" I say, using the poshest accent I can manage.

"Fiction?" He offers as he begins walking around, waving a small torch at old books perched precariously on shelves.

"Well that's extremely helpful because we don't have a lot of that stuff, this being a bookstore and all." I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster, which is a lot.

"You know you don't need your torch to see the books, we do have electricity here."

He splutters indignantly. "This," he says, waving the torch in the air, "is not a torch, it is a sonic screwdriver."

"I don't know what sort of screws you're using mate but that, is most definitely, not a screwdriver."

Just when I think the gods have dropped a ridiculously hot guy onto my doorstep, it turns out that he's a nutter.

"I'll have you know that it is actually very good at unscrewing screws," he retorts.

I decide to change the subject before I completely piss him off.

"So what sort of fiction book are you looking for?" I offer.

"Well, actually I'm here to make a report for the National Bookstore Alliance," he says, flashing me a piece of paper, "The book was just a cover."

I glance at it and look back at him.

"The National Bookstore Alliance? I've never heard of before."

"Yeah well we're doing some checks to make sure everything being done according to procedure." He says, poking around some more, still waving his torch around. "You know, paper quality and stuff like that."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, very official business." He nods firmly.

"Look, cut the crap. That piece of paper you showed me, it was blank." I glare at him.

He looks down at it, unconcerned.  
>"Was it? Oh yeah."<p>

Oh great, now I have a gloriously sexy nutcase in my store.

"To be perfectly frank, who the hell are you?"

"Well that's easy, I'm The Doctor." He smiles.

"You're called The Doctor? Doctor what?" I stare incredulously at him.

"Just The Doctor." He holds out his hand.

"Righttttt..." I gingerly stick out my own hand and clasp his.

"Well I'm Amy, and this had been real nice but now I'm going to go lock up the shop now." I let go of his hand.

As I reach to get the keys, 'The Doctor' grabs my wrist.

Jesus H. Christ ovaries calm the fuck down. He touched your hand, he's not asking you to grow his babies.

"Look I need your help. I've been studying this bookstore for weeks and do you know why?" He asks.

"Do tell."

"How long have you worked here?" He asks.

"I dunno, six weeks maybe?" I shrug, about as cool as ghost pepper. HE'S STILL HOLDING YOUR WRIST.

"And in all that time have you ever seen one customer come in here?"

"Of course customers have came in here." I say, a little harsher than I mean to, but then I frown, and think. "Well not a lot, maybe one or two. At least one person, except you, has definitely came in here." I'm just rambling at this point.

He gives me the 'you know I'm telling the truth, don't deny it' look.

"OK well maybe no one has came in but that doesn't mean anything."

"Not one customer in six weeks? Isn't that just the tiniest bit odd?"

"Recession?" I trail off, trying (and failing) to ignore his hand still on my wrist. He seems to notice it too and lets go. A little part of me cries.

"I've detected high alien life force in this area and I am 96.76% certain this shop has got something to do with it. And I need your help."

"I don't know, only 96.76%? I could only help if it was at least 97.14%. Why do you need my help anyway?" I ask.

Five years ago, if someone mentioned alien activity, I would have told them to go see a therapist; but after the Christmas Star and the planets in the sky I, unfortunately, have no choice but to believe them.

"The paper I showed you is psychic paper, it shows people what I want them to see. Only very special people can see through it with no training. You could. You are a very unusual human," he says.

"I hope that isn't a pick-up line you use on everyone." I say, dropping the keys back down on the counter.

"So you'll help me?"

I may be about to do the stupidest thing I have ever done. And I have have done a lot of stupid shit.

"Yes."


	2. Weird Smells

"So how exactly did you get this job?"

I'm currently sitting in a locked up bookstore with a man, possibly a nutter, who is investigating high alien life force. Yes, I know that sounds completely mental. Believe me, this is about the seventh time I've questioned it myself.

"It was, eh, it was through an agency? Or maybe through a friend, I'm not entirely sure." I sound completely uncertain. But then again that is because I am not certain at all. But you have to be more assertive Amy. Assertiveness is the key.

"You're not entirely sure?" The Doctor, as he called himself, looks disbelievingly up at me. He's waving his torch at some books. For a torch it does make some pretty weird noises.

"Well no- actually yes, I am not entirely sure as to how I came around to acquiring the job."

"How can you not know how you got a job? Can you not remember six weeks ago?"

Okay, now it seems like I'm the nutter.

"Oh course I can remember six weeks ago," I say indignantly. I frown as I struggle to remember exactly how I managed to get this job. Everything just seems to be a muddle of random things, with no order to them.

"I think that I may, possibly, have seen an ad in the... Hm. Window?" I offer.

The Doctor looks skeptical. Darn he's cute. And also about fifteen years older than you. Stop thinking about him. Thinking about that is bad.

"Don't you thinks it's strange that you can't even remember how you got it?"

"Well to be honest, not really. I mean it's not much of a surprise, seeing as I once forgot what my name was."I say. Jesus Christ on a bike, stop embarrassing yourself.

"Well everyone does that sometimes," he shrugs.

"For twenty minutes, they had to wait twenty minutes for me to remember it." I add, unhelpfully. Oh my god, stop talking.

"Alright alright, I'm not arguing with you. But everything about this shop seems a little bit off." He frowns, then waves his 'sonic screwdriver' at me. "Well, at least it's not you."

"What's not me? If you're talking about that weird smell, I think it's coming from the pipes." Ok, this is why you're single. Mentioning weird smells is never a good idea. Especially denying that the weird smell is you.

"I wasn't talking about the weird smell," The Doctor glances curiously at me, "Have you got a back room?" He looks around the shop.

Ok, this is possibly where you may be murdered. People are always murdered in the store room, aren't they? He's not going to murder you, don't be ridiculous. Maybe he is just actually investigating aliens. God knows there's been quite a few of them in the past few years.

"Yeah, it's over there." I step out from behind the counter, and lead him over to the door at the other end of the shop. He follows closely behind me.

"Well this is it." I declare. I widely sweep out my arm, gesturing to the door. I wait expectantly for him to say something.

"Are you going to, you know, open it?" He asks, squinting at me.

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Door. Opening. It. That is what I am doing." I unlock it and push it open. "There you go."

He ducks his amazingly formed head under the frame. It really is quite beautiful. He fumbles around, trying to find the light switch, until I reach around him. I pull on the string, and the light flickers on.

"See? It's a perfectly ordinary stock room. Albeit a rather, ahem, pungent one," I say, looking at the Doctor pointedly.

"Ah but you see, it's the perfectly ordinary stock rooms that turn out to be not so perfectly ordinary," he states. He walks around, shuffling boxes and waving that goddamn torch around.

I can't take it any longer. That incessant buzzing noise is starting to cause a migraine.

"I'm sorry but why do you keep waving that torch-" he glares at me, "Ahem, I mean sonic screwdriver, around? Because it doesn't seem to be very good."

"I'm not 'waving' it around, as you so eloquently put it, I'm scanning," He says exasperatedly.

"Scanning? It's a screwdriver." I am so confused right now. Well, I'm about as confused as I was at the ending to Sherlock, series three.

"Alright, I can't exactly explain it, but I'm using the sonic to scan for alien technology." He squats down, and moves some boxes out of the way.

"Okay... But what sort of alien technology is it, exactly? It's not bad is it? Not all aliens are be bad, right?" I ask, though I'm not entirely sure that I want the answer.

He looks up at me, and smiles a deliciously gorgeous smile. "No, of course not. The Ood are quite nice. And I'm definitely not all that bad," he adds.

"The Ood?" I ask, "I've never heard of them before."

"Oh yes, they're quite a peaceful race. You know, from the Ood Sphere, in the Horsehead Nebula."

He says this as if it's general knowledge. I haven't yet discarded the nutter theory.

"Oh really? And how is it that you know all this?" I bet this is all some sort of windup. Jeez Amy, all it takes is some incredibly handsome man for you to believe all sorts of crap.

He looks at me, as if he's waiting for me to get something. I end up staring at him for a few moments before I realise.

"Wait, what do you mean, you're not all that bad?" He isn't actually serious, is he? He's definitely having me on. He couldn't possibly be.

"You don't mean that you're..."

"Oh yes," he smirks, rather smugly.

Ok, he is definitely crazy. I mean, a full blown lunatic here. He has got to be kidding.

"You're an alien?"


End file.
